Downtime at the Boston Office
by Soquilii
Summary: A Ficlet Based on Leverage


**DOWNTIME AT THE BOSTON OFFICE**

A ficlet By Soquilii

Rated Mature for language

**It's downtime.**

**Three-fifths of the Leverage team are lounging around the briefing room, watching football, snacking on popcorn, sipping beer and orange soda.**

Hardison, catching popcorn in his mouth: Been a while since our last job.

Parker, watching the game, bored: Yup.

Eliot, engrossed in the game, beer at  
the ready: Any prospects on the horizon?

Hardison sips orange soda: I haven't heard of any...'course, Nate brings 'em in.

Eliot tips beer to his lips; his eyes never  
leave the screen: Usually...

Parker frowns, chomping popcorn: Where is Nate, anyway?

Eliot, annoyed: Downstairs in the bar.

Hardison, equally annoyed: Crap.

Eliot, resigned: Yeah.

**They watch the game for a few minutes. Eliot's team isn't doing well. His frown deepens into a scowl.**

Hardison retrieves a Hot Pocket from  
the microwave: OK, where's Sophie?

Parker chirps: Out shopping...for shoes…clothes…I don't understand.

Eliot, irked: _I_ do, Parker, and I'm a _guy,_ for crissake...

Parker interrupts Eliot: Then why...

Eliot interrupts Parker: ...never mind, if you don't get it I can't explain it!

Hardison, placating: It's a girl thing, Parker, you'll understand one day.

Parker relates a story: Girl thing. Huh. Must be like this woman I overheard on a  
street corner, waiting for the light to change...talking to her  
friend...she was upset because her doctor didn't make her chest  
as big as her husband wanted. What's up with stuff like that  
anyway.

Hardison: See, now, Parker, there you go; that's girl stuff, and something  
like that can be lucrative. We can find jobs on our own;  
just gotta keep our eyes and ears open. Sounds like a client to  
me...

Eliot, growling: Yeah, we can call it _The Boob Job_.

**Hardison rolls his eyes.**

**Parker slumps on the sofa, sulking.**

**In walks, or, to be more accurate, stumbles Nate. Very inebriated.**

**Eliot casts a quick glance back at him, then resumes his worship at the altar of football. He's pissed for three reasons now: Nate in his condition; the New England Patriots are not having a good day; and he's got money riding on them.**

Eliot, after a boneheaded play: Come ON!

Hardison: Just how much money did you put on the game,  
anyway?

Eliot: Two grand.

Hardison, disbelieving, shaking his head: Seriously?! Seriously! _Man_...

Parker, whining: I'm BORED. I wanna go steal something.

Nate, hammered: You guys wanna go t'work?

Hardison, only slightly interested: Whatcha got?

Eliot, resentful: He ain't got nothin' man - best he sobers up first.

Hardison, coming to Nate's defense: Hey, Nate, man, he done plenty of jobs wasted...

Nate: Are you tryin' t' tell me you don' wanna work  
'til I sober up?

Eliot, sarcastic to the max: NOW you're gettin' it.

Nate leaves the room, voice fading  
as he goes: Well…all right then...

**The door opens and Sophie breezes in, arms ladened with packages and bags.**

Sophie, excited: Parker, look! What a sale! _Everything_ was marked down!

**Sophie parks her many packages on the bar, paper rustles, she begins unwrapping it all.**

Sophie, encouragingly: Parker, come see...

**Sophie picks up on the atmosphere. She stops, hands holding bags in mid-air, and glances from face to face.**

Sophie, perplexed: Did somebody...die?

Hardison gives her a hard stare: Go ask Nate.

**The game is over, Eliot's team lost; he's out two grand.**

Eliot, pissed: _Fuck!_

**Eliot rays the TV off and throws the remote on the couch. He storms out, grumbling under  
his breath. Parker chirps her brand of comments as she goes through Sophie's purchases, holding them up, item by item.**

Parker…well…being Parker: So. What do you wear with these...what color  
is that. How do you walk in a heel this thin…I don't  
like this blouse...you didn't buy anything black?

Sophie, initially irritated with Parker  
for criticizing her choices: They're not for YOU, Parker!

**Parker looks crushed.**

Sophie, relenting: Oh, Parker...I'm sorry...listen, let's play dress-up  
another time, all right? I'm suddenly very tired.

**Sophie leaves the room. Parker smirks at being alone, grabs a bag of pigskins and chomps them while she searches the channel for something SHE likes.**

The End


End file.
